


None Of That Flowers & Chocolate Type Shit

by Writergirl2007



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Feels, Boys In Love, Gallavich, Heartbroken Ian, Ian struggles with his meds, Ian thinks about Mickey, Ian tries to quit smoking, Ian's inheritance, Ian/Trevor friends with benefits, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey talks about his mom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Settling for second best, fairytale, mickey is hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writergirl2007/pseuds/Writergirl2007
Summary: Ian tries to piece his broken heart back together. He is willing to do anything to get Mickey Milkovich out of his head, even if it means using Trevor as a distraction. Mandy returns just as Ian begins to get his shit straight and he gets mixed up in Milkovich drama. Takes place months after season seven.Inspired by the Katy Perry song, Thinking Of You.





	1. You're gone

It was two am at a Cowboy bar on the Southside of Chicago. After two hours of boring conversation and flirting, Ian became noticeably frustrated. He pulled the last cigarette from his pack and brought it to his lips to light. He's been buying drinks all night and has ran himself out of money and smokes.

The guy opposite of him is going on and on about growing up with strict parents, who surprisingly, support him being gay. He was cute, brunette, and quite the talker. Ian downed the rest of his beer and flicked his ashes into the ash tray. “So, we going to fuck, or no?” He ask boldly, taking a long draw from the Marlboro between his lips.

“Is that all this is?” The guy ask, slurring his words. He leaned forward and snatched the cigarette from Ian’s lips, purposely ghosting his fingers across the redhead's jaw line.

Ian narrowed his eyes at the man and stood up, grasping the bar for leverage. His stomach was full of cheap beer and vodka and it was finally catching up with him. He grabbed his lighter and phone from the bar and turned to the man once more, “Just fucking forget it.” He muttered bitterly and shrugged his coat on. He ignored the man's confused expression and took off toward the exit. He didn't want to talk, he wanted to fuck. 

“Ian, wait!”

Ian was well aware of how obnoxious and shallow he was behaving, but he didn't care. He made his way through the bar leaving any chance of getting laid and his last cigarette behind. He laughed at himself realizing this was the first time he had ever left the bar alone.

He stepped out into the cold air and headed toward home. It was early December in Chicago and the streets were dusted with a light layer of snow. He pulled his jacket tighter around his stomach and walked faster.

Two months ago he left Mickey at the Mexico border and had no idea how much it was going to hurt him. He had dated at first, trying to find someone to fill the void inside his heart, but that didn't work. There was no one out there like Mickey, and he knew he screwed up. He wasn't looking for a relationship now, all he wanted was to find someone to occupy his time, and take care of his needs.

He stopped at the Cash-n-Grab for a pack of cigarettes. He usually avoided this store because of all the memories that would resurface, but it was close to home and he was to cold to walk any further. The kid behind the counter looked to be only eighteen and reminded Ian of himself. The boy tossed the pack of Marlboros onto the counter, Ian paid, and left quickly. Outside the store he slammed the pack against the inside of his palm, tore open the packaging, and pulled out a cigarette. He rose the tobacco to his lips, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

By the time he reached the Gallagher home, his fingers were numb. He entered the house quietly , making sure not to wake the sleeping children inside. He ascended the stairs slowly, the effects of the alcohol still in full swing. He went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

He peeled his clothes off and stepped into the shower, placing himself right underneath the steady stream of hot water. He closed his eyes and allowed the water to run over his face, the chill from the walk home fading now. His mind wandered to the time he had taken a shower with Mickey. They were covered in dirt and had spent the whole day digging out the sewer line in the backyard of the Gallagher’s house.

Lip had been at college and Mickey and Ian had taken on the responsibility of keeping up with house. After working outside in the hot ninety degree weather all day, they had ran into the house fighting over who would get to shower first.

“Fuck you Gallagher, it's mine.” Mickey said, giving Ian a push and running up the stairs. Ian chased after him, but by the time he reached the top of the stairs, the door was shut and the water was running.

Ian beat on the door loudly, pissed off at his boyfriend. “Not fair Mickey!”

He turned the doorknob and realized it wasn't locked. A smile spread across his face. _How convenient_. His dick was already straining against the fly of his jeans, as he imagined his naked boyfriend inside the shower. He stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Ian was already naked when Mickey peaked out from the shower curtain.

“Jesus Christ Ian, the fuck!?” He yelled, noticeably annoyed.

Ian was more than ready to play this game. Leaving the door unlocked had been an open invitation, because who didn't lock doors in the Gallagher house? Ian shoved the curtain to the side and stepped in to join Mickey. He couldn't help but stare as the steam and water rolled off of the older man's shoulders.

Mickey turned to face him, “You could have fucking waited, Ian.” He said, giving him a quick jab in the ribs. He grabbed Ian and turned him so that he was directly under the stream of hot water.

“I didn't feel like waiting. What's the fun in that Mick?” He said with a smirk.

Mickey circled his hands around both Ian’s wrists and pushed him up against the back of the shower wall. Ian tried to free his hands, but Mickey was stronger, and it only made him squeeze harder. Ian closed the gap between them and smashed their lips together roughly. Mickey pulled back and his eyes lowered to the erection that was pressing against his stomach.

“Oh, so that's what you want, tough guy? Spending all day getting dirty with me has got you hot?” Mickey said, biting his bottom lip and smiling. He released Ian’s wrists and reached for his hips. Ian let out a groan and turned them so that Mickey was pinned up against the wall. He pressed his body against Mickey’s and smashed their lips together again.

Ian opened his eyes and was brought back. The dingy shower had never felt so lonely. He became aware of what he had done to himself. His dick was hard and throbbing with excitement. He let out a low groan as his right hand circled around his dick. It had taken barely three strokes to get him where he needed to be. He sank back against the shower wall, breathless from self gratification. His orgasm brought forth a flood of emotions and tears burned his eyes.

_God how he missed him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First attempt at a multi chapter Gallavich fic. Feedback is always greatly appreciated.


	2. It only hurts when I breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian decides to see Trevor again.

Trevor and Caleb had been blowing his phone up all week. Ian found their constant slew of messages desperate and needy. On a lonely Saturday, he had a moment of weakness and actually replied to Trevor. 

Ian: What's up

Trev: Dude where've you been?

Ian rubbed his eyes and stared blankly at the screen. He didn't know how to respond. The two of them hadn't talked since he had spilled the beans about Mickey. For once, Ian had told the truth and confessed his wrong doings. He was determined to tell the truth because Trevor deserved that much. He was surprised Trevor still wanted to talk to him after that. Ian felt damaged, broken, and soulless. He didn't even want to be around himself.

A few minutes passed, the phone vibrated inside his palm with another message from Trevor.

Trev: HELLO?

Ian: been busy, working a lot

 

That's all he could manage.

 

Trev: There's a party tonight, if you wanna meet up.

Ian considered his options: stay home wallowing in broken hearted depression, or go dancing with his ex. It didn't take him long to decide.

Ian: Sure

He forced himself into the shower. There was a week's worth of stubble against his jaw and he blindly began shaving his face. He finished showering and dressed quickly. He checked his phone and saw that Trevor had sent the directions. The party was only a few blocks away. His lanky fingers moved across the keys in response.

Ian: See ya soon

He wiped away the condensation from the mirror and looked himself over. He almost didn't recognize the person staring back at him. His green eyes were dilated, (thanks to the increased dose of meds) and vacant. His freshly shaven cheeks were hollow from lack of appetite. His once bulky frame looked fragile and thinned. He hoped he didn't look as empty as he felt he did.

He gave himself a smirk, reminding himself that this was okay. He deserved to go out and have fun. He needed to get out and stop obsessing over Mickey and the persistent guilt he felt. He ran a hand through his auburn hair and buttoned the last button on his shirt. He grabbed his keys, smokes, and phone, before walking out the door.

It took him ten minutes to find the address Trevor sent him. The house looked like what you would expect from the South side. People loitered the lawn, drunkenly groping one another. The front door of the house was wide open and bumping rap music spilled out onto the yard. Three guys sat on the porch passing a joint through their fingertips.

He made his way inside and his eyes searched for the curly haired boy. The place was too crowded and he only made it halfway through when an obnoxious drunk guy stumbled into him.

“Watch where you're fucking going!” The man yelled, pushing off Ian.

Ian's right hand bawled into a fist as he became instantly pissed. He was going to knock the stupid fuck on his ass. A hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and he whipped his head around to see Trevor, who automatically stepped between them.

“Woah, he's with me.”

“Whatever.” The man replied, stumbling away.

Trevor turned back to face Ian, “See, you've already made some friends.” He laughed, but Ian's anger didn't subside from the attempted joke.

“I can handle my own shit Trev. I don't need you swooping in to fight my battles for me.” He jerked his hand away from Trevor and began retracing his steps back to the door.

“Oh, Ian, come on. Don't let one jackass ruin your night.”

Ian stopped and Trevor's hand circled around his index finger, “Beer?”

Ian nodded in agreement and allowed Trevor to lead him into the kitchen. He watched as Trevor grabbed two red cups and filled them full of beer. He presented one to him and smiled when he accepted it.

“You look good red.” Trevor said, his eyes lingered on Ian's lips as he took a long drink.

Ian leaned against the counter and shifted uncomfortably, “This isn't really what I expected.”

“Well, what does that mean?”

“You, me, hanging out again.”

“What? You thought this was going to be weird?”

Ian's rose his eyebrows and nodded yes.

“It's okay, I'm over it.”

His reply was simple enough, but Ian felt like there was a hidden meaning behind the words. He started to tell Trevor how sorry he was, but was cut off.

“You don't have to say it.” Trevor said, slouching against the counter beside him.

Ian tilted his head to catch his eyes, “You been doing okay?”

A group of people flooded into the kitchen, cheering and laughing loudly.

“You wanna go outside?” Trevor ask, reaching for his hand.

Their fingers threaded together and Trevor walked him out onto the deck beside the kitchen. Beer cans littered the area and a pair of guys sat lounging in floral printed patio furniture. They walked down a ways so that they could have some privacy.

Ian reached into his jean pocket to retrieve his cigarettes. He fished out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. He noticed Trevor's face curl in disgust as he lit it and took a long draw.

“I didn't know you were a smoker.”

“I'll quit again, soon. I just picked it back up.”

“You seem different.”

Those words held so much truth. He was different, so painfully different it hurt. He watched Trevor empty his cup and throw it down next to their feet.  

“So, like, you ever think we could try this again. Start over?”

“Trev….”

He had to look away. The words were caught in the back of his throat. _Could he really do this again?_ He was eager for a distraction from the never-ending memories. An escape from reality, because sometimes reality was too much for him to handle. He was afraid that too much had happened between them. He had tainted their relationship and being with anyone but Mickey Milkovich seemed pale in comparison. He chugged the rest of his drink, trying to muster up enough confidence to speak again.

“Trev, we are different, fuck, what am I trying to say?” He said, swiping his hand across his mouth nervously, “I'm not looking for a relationship, I've got to figure some shit out.”

“I'm not asking for the sun and moon here, Ian. We could just hangout. Maybe once and awhile we fuck, maybe not. It's up to you.” He smoothed his hand against Ian's arm and smiled.

“And you're okay with that?” Ian ask, contemplating the idea.

“No strings attached.”

They became distracted by the two guys on the deck. Their bodies were wrapped into a passionate embrace, kissing wildly. Lusty moans filled the air around them. They were moments away from ripping their clothes off.

“Jesus.” Ian groaned, rolling his head toward Trevor.

Trevor got up and motioned for Ian to follow, “Let's get fucked up.”

Two beers and a shot of vodka later, the heaviness in his chest began to subside. He latched onto Trevor and steered him toward the music playing in the living room. He hung his arm around the shorter boys neck and began grinding his hips against him.

"Someone's starting to have fun.” Trevor smiled.

“Mixing my meds with alcohol gets me fucking wasted.” Ian spoke against his jaw.

The music was loud in his ears and there were people bumping up against him, but he didn't care. All he could focus on was the gasps and pants flowing out of Trevor's mouth as their hips twisted together provocatively. He couldn't keep his eyes off the velvety lips that lingered inches away from his. The temptation was too much for him to handle. He darted his tongue out to lick Trevor's bottom lip, and finally joined their lips together. The kiss was sloppy and filled with unanswered questions.  Trevor's body immediately slackened in his arms. He pulled back to breathe, and received a scorching hot look from Trevor.

“That was fucking great.” Trevor replied, licking his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey will be in upcoming chapters. I promise.


	3. Armed And Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're like an Indian summer in the middle of winter

Ian pulled tightly on Trevor's curly hair as they kissed deeply. They had made it to Trevor's house well past two am. They had been disappointed to find his roommates home and resorted to messing around on the front porch. He had been working Trevor over for about an hour now, and the boy was coming undone before him.

“We could just go to my house. They don't care.” Ian suggested, as his hand slipped underneath Trevor's shirt. His fingers drew lazy circles across Trevor's stomach.

“Too long...The L...would take too long.” Trevor inhaled sharply as Ian's hands continued lower.

“You can't wait fifteen minutes?” Ian ask, his voice deep and guttural against Trevor's neck. He closed his lips around Trevor's pulse point and sucked lightly. He bared his teeth and nipped at the soft skin, unknowingly marking his flesh.

“Oh...God...I'll be done in less than fifteen minutes.” Trevor whined, bucking his hips against Ians open palm.

“You're a mess.” Ian chuckled against his collarbone.

“Totally your fault.”

Seconds later Trevor's hand gravitated to Ian's dick to reciprocate the favor. He unbuttoned Ian's pants and rolled his boxers halfway down his hips. Ian watched closely as Trevor palmed him, his erection springing free and toward his mouth. “I missed this.” Trevor said, kissing alongside Ian's hips. Suddenly he was taking him inside his mouth and Ian's head rolled back. He rested a shaky hand against Trevor's head in silent appreciation.

In moments like this, it was usually easy for him to turn his thoughts off. He would close his eyes and let his body take over. This time when he closed his eyes, Mickey's face was there.

He pondered the difference between the two men. Mickey was tenacious in bed. He was always very vocal about what he wanted and how he wanted it. He even kissed better. His lips were fervent and left Ian's skin blazing in their wake.

Trevor was more reserved and submissive. He took his time with Ian. His kisses were slow and cautious. There was chemistry between him and Trevor, but it was no match for the sizzling heat he felt with Mickey.

“You okay, red?” Trevor spoke up, pulling Ian from his thoughts.

Ian glanced down at Trevor and frowned at his flaccid dick. Trevor stood up and Ian pulled his pants up suddenly embarrassed. The moment was awkward and Ian shifted uncomfortably, “I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Rain check?” Trevor said giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Sure.”

He told Trevor goodbye and began walking home. He was angry at himself, because this time it hadn't been because of the meds. It was the first time he'd been touched in months and should have been able to sustain an erection. If only he could get Mickey out if his head.

When he got home, Carl and Lip were sitting on the sofa watching Tv. They were smoking cigarettes and noticeably stoned. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and joined the pair on the couch.

“Where’d you go tonight?” Lip ask, a cigarette pressed between the corner of his lips.

“Went to a party with Trev over on Broadway. It was okay.”

“Yeah, I heard the police busted it up about an hour ago.” Lip noted.

Ian leaned back against the couch and relaxed. It was nice to be in the company if his brothers. Carl was flipping through the channels on the Tv searching for something to watch.

“This is bullshit, nothing on.” Carl declared, frustrated.

He turned the channel again and the three of them stared at the screen where a picture of Mickey was displayed. It was their towns late night news report; Ian recognized the anchor woman.

_"Chicago city police are still on the search for escaped fugitive Mikhailo Milkovich. If anyone has any information on Milkovich's whereabouts they are urged to notify police. Milkovich is believed to be armed and dangerous."_

“Turn that shit off.” Lip said, grabbing the remote from Carl. He turned the TV off and sighed. He gave Ian a sympathetic look, “You heard from him?”

“Yeah, a couple months ago.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we said goodbye. For good.”

There was a moment of silence and Ian got up from the couch. It had been a long night and he was tired. He told Carl and Lip goodnight and made his way up the stairs to their room. He sat his beer can on his nightstand and sat down on the bed. He stared at the three orange pill bottles arranged in order beside his lamp. Mood stabilizer, antipsychotic, antidepressant. He popped the caps off, and dumped a pill from each bottle into his palm. He tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with a drink of beer. He replaced the bottles in their original position and laid back in bed.

 _Armed and dangerous_. The words replayed inside his head. He could understand the assumption. Mickey had been arrested for attempted murder. Honestly, everyone that lived on the Southside was armed and dangerous. Ian knew that Mickey was just trying to bring him justice after that bitch Sammi had him taken away. It was because of his love for him, Ian now realizes. Wherever Mickey was, he hoped he was safe and happy. He pulled the covers up over his body and closed his eyes.

_Goodnight Mickey_


	4. Friends in low places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandy has a problem and asks Ian for help.

Weeks passed by quickly. He was managing everything well for once. Taking his meds on time, sleeping through the night, and eating well. He had even put back on some of the weight he lost. He threw himself into his job, volunteering to work double shifts and extra days. He found that if he stayed busy, he had less time to be sad. He loved being an EMT because, he was helping people. There were people who relied on him, and it was nice to be needed for a change. 

Things with Trevor were good too. Whenever Ian got a day off work, they would spend it together. No strings attached was working nicely. He could fuck Trevor whenever he wanted, and didn't get shit for leaving afterwards. There were plenty of times when it was hard for him to leave Trevor after sex. When their bodies were twined together under the covers; both boys physically exhausted and sated. Trevor's soft sleep filled voice would beg him to stay and Ian would feel torn.  Sometimes he would wait for Trevor to fall asleep and he’d get dressed in the dark.  He would plant a quick kiss against Trevor's forehead and slip out just before his roommates got up for work.

The Southside thug still crossed his mind frequently. It was getting easier for Ian to live without him. The memories didn't hurt as bad now. He was just happy that he got to experience Mickey's love. A prize that very few people ever got to receive. The pain reminded him that it was real. Their love had been raw, and all consuming. Whenever he was ready to love again, at least he would remember what it felt like.

It was around four am whenever Ian made it home from work. He walked into the Gallagher house and the first thing he saw was Frank. He was sprawled out on the couch, snoring loudly. His half naked body wrapped up in a thin sheet.  He turned his nose up at the sight and set his work bags down onto the floor. He spied Frank's opened pack of cigarettes lying on the coffee table. He impulsively grabbed a cigarette from the pack and lit it. He had been struggling to kick the old habit. He let out a puff of smoke and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. He took a long draw off the Marlboro and closed his eyes. There was a faint knock at the door and Ian immediately sauntered over to answer it.

“What the hell do you want?”

The words slipped out before he even got a chance to see the person standing before him.  His mouth fell open when his eyes landed on Mandy Milkovich.  She took two steps forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Mandy.” He spoke against her hair.

She pulled back to look at him, “I'm so happy to see you again. You have no idea how much I've missed you.”

The last time he saw Mandy was when he helped her with the guy in the hotel. That was almost a year ago now. He noticed her eyes were red and puffy and she looked troubled. He looked behind her, at the black Jeep parked along the curb.

“I need your help with something.” Mandy motioned toward the vehicle, “He's inside. I didn't know where else to go.”

He gathered that something bad had happened. She had probably got herself into another mess and needed him to alleviate the situation. His breath caught in his throat as he pondered another possibility. Could Mickey be sitting inside that Jeep? He gave her a look of confusion and brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“What's going on Mandy, who is in the Jeep?”

“Please, don't make me beg.”

She clasp his hand in hers and led him to the Jeep. She opened the back door and Ian caught a glimpse of Mickey's bloody face.  He quickly shut the door and gave Mandy a pointed look.

“Fuck Mandy! Why'd you bring him here?” He half whispered half yelled, trying not to bring any attention to them.

His eyes looked up and down the street to make sure no one had followed her. It was risky for Mickey to be back in Chicago, especially in this neighborhood. The police knew Mickey’s face and if they caught sight of him, both Mandy and Ian would face jail time. He swiped a shaky hand over his mouth, undecided on what to do. He couldn't just let Mickey lay there bloody and broken.

“You are the only one who ever gave a shit about us. Get into the fucking car Ian.” Mandy yelled, as more tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She hurried over to the driver side and got in.

Ian took a deep breath and got inside the vehicle. Before his door was closed, Mandy hit the gas and peeled out onto the street.

Mickey’s head was slumped back against the seat. His pale face was covered in blood and his left eye was swollen shut. His clothes were tattered and also covered in blood. Ian was unsure if the blood was Mickeys or someone else's. He nudged Mickey softly, attempting to wake him.

“Mick….it's me Ian. I'm here Mick.”

He pressed his thumb against Mickey’s neck and let out a sigh when he felt his heartbeat. He directed his attention toward Mandy, catching her eyes in the rearview mirror.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Two days. He called me and said he was in trouble. I drove all day and night before I found him.”

Ian grabbed a hold of Mickey’s hand and noticed there was blood under his fingernails. His tattooed fingers were also bloody and bruised just like his face. A wave of anger surged through him. He wanted to kill whoever did this to Mickey.

Mickey’s head rose up and he jerked his hand away. He looked at Ian with his uninjured eye. “Mandy, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, unable to look away from Ian.

“Ian is the only chance we got Mickey. I can't take care of you and drive too. You're hurt.”

“I told you one fucking thing to do and you do the opposite, yeah...okay.” Mickey replied sarcastically, before his head rolled back against the seat again.

“Mandy, he has a concussion. He needs to go to the hospital.”

Mandys eyes met Ian's in the mirror, giving him a knowing look. She knew how badly her brother was hurt. She knew he needed to see a doctor, but that was not an option at this point.

Ian smacked his open palms against both Mickey’s cheeks lightly, “C’mon Mick, wake up, you can't sleep. Gotta stay awake.” Mickey's eye fluttered open and Ian let out a sigh.

“For the record, I told her not to bother you. She was just supposed to call.” Mickey spoke softly, so that only Ian could hear.

“Well Mick, I'm involved. I'm not leaving.”

Mickey let out a chuckle, “She can't keep running back to you when something bad happens. She has to move on, just like I had to.”

Tears brimmed Ian eyes when Mickey's words hit him. The pain felt just as fresh as the day they said goodbye. All the progress he had made within the last month was crumbling bit by bit. Seeing Mickey again was splitting his heart into pieces.

They sat in silence while Mandy drove. He wasn't sure where they were going, or if the two Milkovich's even had a plan. He kept an eye on Mickey, nudging him awake whenever he started to fade out. He didn't know what he was going to say to Trevor, or his family. All he knew was that Mickey and Mandy needed him, and he wasn't going anywhere.


	5. 20 questions with a Milkovich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets nosy about Trevor

Mandy drove for two hours before she found a Motel outside of Chicago. The red vacancy sign flickered as she pulled into the empty parking lot. Her and Ian argued briefly about who was going to pay for the room. He offered her money, but she refused to take it. She got out of the Jeep and walked inside to pay. She came back several minutes later, presenting Ian with a key to their room. She opened the trunk, grabbed their bags, and walked in the direction of their room.

Ian walked over to Mickey's side. He opened the door and stretched his hand out.   Mickey responded instantly smacking him away, “I can walk on my own, bitch.”  He was just as stubborn as Ian remembered. He moved to the side to give Mickey room.

Mickey grabbed his ribs and got out. He tried to hide the pain as he balanced himself. His legs wavered slightly and his hand clung onto Ian's forearm for leverage. As soon as their skin touched Mickey let out a sigh. The familiar spark was lit and he welcomed the swarm of butterflies that entered his stomach. Ian towered over him, his mountainous shoulders providing Mickey's eyes shelter from the bright lights of the hotel. In the short six months they had been apart, the redhead must have grown at least six inches taller.

“So, maybe I do need your help firecrotch.”

Ian smiled and hoisted the shorter man up against him. Mickey leaned his weight against Ian's side and they followed Mandy to the room. She was already inside when they got there, busy unpacking their things. Ian kicked the door shut with his foot and set him down onto the bed carefully, not wanting to cause Mickey anymore pain.

Once seated, Mickey flicked his hand out at Ian, “Cigarette, now.”

“I'm trying to quit.”

“The fuck you are.”

Mandy tossed a pack of Marlboro reds and a black lighter onto the bed beside Mickey. Ian grabbed the pack and slapped it against his open palm. He tore off the wrapping and pulled out a cigarette. He carefully placed it between Mickey's bloodstained lips and lit it.

Ian's phone buzzed inside his pocket and he reached to retrieve it. He rose the phone up to his face and saw two messages from Trevor. He couldn't hold back the smile that formed as he read over Trevor's words.

“That him, your boyfriend?”

Ian looked down from the phone, unaware he was being watched, “Not exactly.”

Mandy placed two towels on the bed next to Mickey, “I'm taking a shower.” Both guys gave her a nod.  

Ian removed his jacket and laid it against the back of a chair. He sat down in the seat and began texting Trevor to tell him that he was okay.

Mickey finished his first cigarette and then lit up another. “He take you on dates and shit? Does he treat you better than me?” He ask, chewing on the inside of his jaw.

Ian tossed his phone on the table and made a move towards Mickey. “Let me clean your face, Mick.”

“Don't fucking touch me.”

Ian dropped back down in the chair and ran his hands through his hair. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He was used to Mickey being harsh but this was more. He was acting different now and Ian knew it was his fault. He had a year's worth of matching hatred for himself too.

By the time Mandy returned from the shower Mickey had smoked three more cigarettes. Ian eyes were heavy. He had been up twenty-four hours straight now. He stretched his legs out and closed his eyes. The tv played in the background and he listened to the mumbled voices of Mandy and Mickey. He couldn't make out what they were saying, because the Tv was too loud.  He knew that there was more. They weren't telling him everything that was going on. He knew they were running from the cops, but who else? With Mickey's reputation, he realized anything was possible. He heard Mickey laugh and he let himself doze off.

When Ian woke up it was dark outside. He stood up and stretched. The chair was not fit for sleeping he decided.  He immediately looked toward the bed, where Mickey lay still asleep. He was shirtless and had since taken a shower and washed the blood off his face. His face was still marred, the deep lacerations along his nose still glistened with blood. The swelling had gone down in his eye at least. Despite his wounded face, Mickey looked beautiful. Like a picture out of one of the magazine's Ian used to look at in private. The sheet was low against his waist and Ian blatantly gawked at the sight. Mickey was sporting a hard on and Ian's breath caught inside his throat. He allowed himself to indulge in the view for a few more seconds and made a quick move towards the bed.

Mickey rolled onto his back, his cobalt eyes immediately landing on Ian.  He gave him a look of surprise when Ian lit a cigarette and placed it between his split lips. He lit another one for himself and Mickey smiled at the irony.

“Thought you quit.”

“Yeah, I’m Trying.”

“Mandy went to get food.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“My head hurts, and my fucking ribs are killing me.”

“What're you guys gonna do? Where will you go?” Ian ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“She's  got a place in upstate New York. Figured we would start there.”

“What about the police?”

“Why you got so many damn questions Gallagher? Don't you worry bout me, okay.” Mickey smiled, and took a hit from the cigarette.

“Who did that to your face?” Ian reached out to touch Mickey's cheek, but was smacked away.

“Keep your fingers….off.”

“Mick, please.”

Mickey sat up in bed, and held three fingers up at Ian. “You made your decision. Job, family, boyfriend. Remember.”

“I've been beating myself up over this for months now Mickey. Wondering if you were safe….”

“I knew that night on the docks..that was supposed to be goodbye. You should've just told me goodbye Ian.” Mickey shoved the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray and looked passed him at the tv.

“I'll never be able to make up for that Mick. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry don't fix shit, Ian.”

Ian leaned in close, forcing Mickey to look at him “Just stop. Stop pushing me away.”

Ian's phone buzzed on the table beside them and Mickey narrowed his eyes at it. He was moments away from picking it up and slamming it against the wall. He held back instead and rose his eyebrows up, “You better answer it before he worries.”

“It's okay, Trevor knows.”

“You talk to _Trevor_ about me?”

“Yes, I have before.”

Mickey leaned closer till Ian felt his hot breath against his chin. There was glint of excitement that flashed in his eyes and Ian's stomach knotted up with nerves.

“Gallagher, if I wanted you, I would take you.”

Ian's dick twitched in response. He knew what Mickey was doing. His blue eyes stared deeply at him as he proceeded further.

“Does he fuck you as good as I did?” Mickey questioned, a smug smile played on his lips.

Ian took the last draw from his smoke and smashed it into the ashtray. He licked his lips and took the risk. He shoved Mickey's shoulders back against the pillows and forced his mouth down onto Mickeys. He heard a painful groan escape Mickey's mouth and he pulled back quickly. He had gotten caught up in the moment and forgot about Mickey's injured ribs.

“Mickey, I'm sorry.”

Mickey shoved him away and licked his lips. His body was both sore and turned on. He had intentionally provoked Ian with his questions and got the reaction that he was hoping for. He could tell that Ian didn't love Trevor, just by the way he was acting. He would never admit it, but he felt a twinge of jealousy over this guy. Trevor was the one who got to see Ian's bright green eyes and fiery red hair every day. He was the guy that got to see Ian excel in his career as an EMT. He was also the one who got to experience a normal life with _his_ Ian.

It had been Ian’s choice, and he didn't blame him for it. Mickey had always gotten himself into trouble since they were kids. He'd been to jail multiple times throughout their relationship. He felt like Ian was better off without him. All of this had been much easier to handle when he was several hundred miles away. When Ian's lips touched his, all these old feelings were brought to the surface.

“Fuck you Gallagher.” Mickey said, raising his middle finger up.

Before Ian could respond, Mandy walked through the door with their food and a six pack of beer.

“Takeout from down the road, burgers and fries.” She said placing the bags on the counter.

Ian walked over and grabbed a styrofoam container and a beer and handed both out to Mickey.

“You guys okay?” She ask, noticing Ian's awkward stance.

“Fuckin peachy.” Mickey replied, as he opened the container and began eating.


	6. Public displays of affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickeys jealousy boils over

Mickey was the first one to wake up. He unwrapped himself from the heavy comforter and instinctively grabbed a cigarette and lit it. His eyes focused on the blinking green light coming from Ian's phone. He let out a puff of smoke and bit his lip in thought. He knew what the green notification ment. It was an indicator that Ian had people in his life that cared about him. A blinking reminder that Ian's boyfriend was on the other end of the phone.  He should have felt happy for Ian, but it infuriated him. 

Mickey never had much of a use for technology really. The only time he'd ever needed a phone was to talk to Ian. Not so long ago he spent well over one hundred dollars on prepaid phones just to be able to hear the redhead's voice again. He darted his eyes down to the floor where Ian was asleep. He was lying on his stomach with one leg curled up against his waist and the other leg stretched straight out. Mickey visualized himself dropping down to the floor and nuzzling up against his warm body.

He thought about old times. When freckles still covered Ian's baby face. When Mickey was still very much in the closet and in denial about his feelings. They had started out as enemies and turned into lovers. If he could go back he would do things a bit differently. He would treat Ian better, admit his feelings sooner, just for a chance to love him longer.

He turned his attention back to the phone. He made a rash decision and snatched the phone from the table. He shoved it into his pocket and tiptoed to the door. He closed the door quietly and stepped out onto the balcony. He leaned up against the railing and swiped his fingers across the phone. He did feel bad about snooping through Ian's phone, but he had to know.  The phone lit up and asked him for the password, a sequence of six numbers. He bit his lip in concentration. He began entering in random numbers and quickly realized that wasn't going to work. He flicked his cigarette and lit up another one.

He typed in Ian's birthday and that didn't work either. He had one last date in mind and his fingers slowly pressed 11-15-14. A smile spread across his face when the phone unlocked. November 15th, 2014. That was the day that him and Ian ‘officially’ started dating.  

He scanned through his messages from Trevor. The first message was sent from Ian six hours ago. It was only three words, but they broke him. “I miss you.” He was literally sleeping three feet away from him and was missing Trevor. His fist clenched as he read more. Ian told Trevor about everything, even gave him the address to the hotel they were staying at. He shoved the phone deep into his pocket and walked back inside. He was pissed and had to stop himself from dragging Ian out of the room by his feet. He slammed the door loudly, not concerned with being quiet anymore.

Mandy stirred in bed and rose up on her elbows, “Mickey, what's wrong?” She said, still half asleep.

“Fucking Gallagher ratted us out.”

Mandy sat up and wiped at her eyes, “Ian is still asleep.”

Mickey shoved his bare foot against Ian's leg roughly, “Wake up, now!” He yelled.

“Mickey, leave him alone.”

Ian opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. He gave Mickey a confused look, “What's wrong?”

“You're a fucking bitch, that's what's wrong.” Mickey pulled the phone out and threw it at Ian's head. He managed to dodge the blow and the phone slammed passed him against the wall.

“What the fuck was that?” Ian asked, as he glared at Mickey.  He picked the phone up from the floor, and rose to his feet. Mickeys behavior struck a nerve and he stepped up to him.

“Mandy, get your shit, we're taking the snitch back home….where he belongs.” Mickey avoided Ian's gaze and turned his back to light up another cigarette.  He pressed both palms against his eyes and tried to compose himself.

“You're going through my shit now Mick?” Ian challenged.

Mandy got out of bed and walked toward the boys. She didn't want the situation to escalate. “Guys, stop fighting. They're going to kick us out.”

Mickey snapped his head toward her, “This is all your fault Mandy. You're the one who got him involved in this shit. You take him back home, before I do something I'll regret.”

“Like what Mickey? You gonna hit me, will that make you feel like a man?” Ian bumped his chest up against Mickey's; he would never cower from a fight. He intentionally brought words up from the past, just to push Mickey further over the edge.

There was a time when Mickey would have punched him for saying something like that. Now it physically pained him to imagine raising a hand to the younger man's face. Ian Gallagher had found a way to break through Mickey's bullet proof exterior and had turned him soft. Ian was the only man in the world that he'd ever been lovesick over. He was more worried about giving into his desire than hitting him.

“Get the fuck outta here with that shit man.” Mickey replied, giving Ian a push back.

“I didn't snitch on you Mickey, I just told Trev what was going on. He won't say anything.”

Mickey cringed as he heard the name slip from Ian's mouth. Apparently the ginger had a thing for abbreviated names.  

“Tell him if he even breathes a word to the police I'll find him and cut his fucking tongue outta his mouth. Got it?”

“Mickey, he's not like that. I trust him.”

“Well, I thought we could trust you too, but guess not.”  Mickey said, as he walked back to the bed and sank down on top of the sheets.

Mandy and Ian both relaxed and she placed a hand on Ian's shoulder. “He's a dick.” She made it a point to emphasize the insult and gave Mickey a dirty look.

“I need a fucking drink.” Ian said, as he grabbed his shoes and slipped them on. He needed to get away from Mickey and the cramped hotel room.

Mandy put her shoes on and grabbed her keys from the table. They didn't say another word as they walked downstairs stairs to the Jeep. Once he was inside the vehicle Ian let out a frustrated sigh, “I don't know what to say to him anymore. How did shit get so messed up with us, what am I supposed to do with him?” Ian ask, not really toward Mandy, but more to himself.

“He been through a lot Ian...and he is obviously jealous of Trevor.”

“We are not even together! He can't get mad at me for trying to move on.”

“Maybe he doesn't want you to move on.”

Ian closed his eyes and laid his head back against the headrest. _He didn't want to move on_. All he wanted was to be happy again and not have to fake it for once.

Mandy pulled into the nearest bar and followed Ian inside. They started out with shots of whiskey. After three rounds of drinks, both Mandy and Ian started to loosen up. They talked about Mandy mostly. She was still working with the escort service. He had been hoping she would stop, but did not pass judgement. Apparently she was doing really well from the view of money he saw stashed in her pocket book. She paid for their drinks, slapping him playfully when he laid a twenty dollar bill on the counter.

“I got it. I don't want you paying for anything with me. I'll take care of it.” She slipped the bartender some money and ordered two beers.

“I know you don't want to talk about it, but what happened between you and Mickey?” Mandy ask, taking a sip from her beer.

“He didn't tell you?”

“Mickey's not much of a talker.”

“He wanted me to go to Mexico with him. I really wanted to. We got there and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't take off like that.”

“So he drove across the border alone, and you let him?”

“Yeah, I'm a fucking dumbass.” Ian let himself laugh at the words, otherwise he would cry.

“Do you still love him?”

“I'll always love him. He was my first love Mandy.”

“What about Trevor, why'd you tell him where we were?”

“I don't want to lie to him. I've always been upfront with him, especially about Mickey.”

“What're you going to do?”

“I can't handle the running Mandy. A relationship with Mickey isn't even possible, not when he's on the run from the cops.”

Mandy ordered two more shots and she rose a shot glass up towards Ian, “Is this the last time I'm ever going to see you?” She ask, before throwing the shot back and swallowing the burning liquid.

“We always find a way back Mandy.” He gave her a smile and gulped down the shot.

An hour later, Mandy returned to the hotel alone. She walked inside the room and stumbled over her feet. Mickey caught a whiff of alcohol as he watched his sister double over with uncontrolled laughter.  She was wasted. Mickey kept waiting for Ian to stumble into the room behind her, but he never did.

“Where the fuck is Ian?”

“I drove him to the train station. He was sad.”

“The fuck you say to him?”

“He's so sad Mickey...I tried to make him feel better. He's going home.”

“How far away is the station?”

“Three blocks away.”

Mickey drew in a shaky breath. He didn't know that Ian was really going to leave. He didn't even get to say goodbye.  He walked over to Mandy and jerked his hand out, “Give me the fucking keys.”

“Every cop in town is looking for you. You can't leave.”

“Mandy, give me the fucking keys now!” He yelled, as tears blurred his vision. He knew with each passing second Ian was getting further away. He smiled when she tossed the keys next to his feet.

He ran the whole way to the Jeep.  He didn't even look around to see if he was being watched. He turned the key in the ignition and stomped on the gas. He wasn't familiar with the town and hoped he was headed in the right direction. He got lucky and found the Train station. He jumped out of the driver seat and took off running toward the boarding area. There were swarms of people lined up to board the oncoming train. He pushed his way through the people, desperate to reach the front of the platform. He fisted his hands in his hair and searched through the crowd. His heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimpse of Ian's red hair.

Mickey approached him from behind and hooked his arm through Ian's. He jerked him back from the yellow line and began walking through the crowd, with Ian in tow. Once they were away from the boarding area, Mickey released him. Without warning, Ian landed a hard blow to the side of Mickey’s face.

“What the fuck was that for!” Mickey screamed, raising his hands up in defense.

“You told me to leave!”

“I was fucking jealous okay...is that what you wanna hear?”

Ian's face softened and he walked toward Mickey. He reached out and coasted his thumb across Mickey's bloodied lips, “I'm so sorry Mick.”

Mickey happily leaned into his touch and stared up at Ian. He was giving him that look again. Like he was the light and everything good in the world. His heart aches for his kiss and he can't pull away. Mickey tips his chin up toward him and Ian places a wet kiss against his mouth. The kiss quickly intensifies and Mickey angles his mouth so their tongues can coil together.

He hated public displays of affection, but this was the exception. Ian was always the exception to any rule or boundary he had in place. His hands curve up the swell of Ian's chest and he threads his fingers through his red hair. Their lips part and Mickey rested his forehead against Ian's shoulder, his lips still tingling from their kiss. “I'm still in love with you.” Mickey whispered, against Ian's jacket.


	7. The forgotten Milkovich brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey reveals a discovery he made while in prison

The train whistle sounded in the background; a faint reminder why Mickey was here in the first place. They had stumbled their way back to the Jeep together, their lips unwilling to separate. The air around them was thick and heavy, and the combination of the two had his shirt clinging to his perspired skin. 

They were a mixture of elbows and limbs, as they fought for a comfortable position in the front seat. The windows were fogged and streaked from their fingers and arms. Ian lets out a groan of approval as Mickey wraps his fingers around the hem of his shirt and eagerly pulls it over his head. Mickey shoves the shirt away and looks him over.

Ian's lips are red and swollen from their harsh kisses, and a loose strand of red hair dangles in front of his green eyes. Patches of red chest hair and freckles are like a road map, leading Mickey's eyes to their final destination. The sight of Ian's prominent bulge sends a thrill through him and he unbuckles his belt with nervous fingers. 

“You okay, Mick?” 

Mickeys eyes dart out the window and he bites down on his bottom lip, “There's all these people around.” He sinks back into the driver seat and licks the corner of his mouth, relishing in the aftertaste of their kiss. 

“We've done it at the baseball field in the middle of the afternoon.” Ian urges, giving him a smirk.

“That was in the dugout. We were completely hidden!” Mickey shoves him playfully and they both laugh. 

“Pretend they're not there.” Ian says, placing a firm hand against Mickey's thigh. 

“You're not fucking me here,” Mickey rubs his nose up against Ian's and their lips bump lightly, “You want me to touch you?” 

Instead of a response, Ian grabs Mikey's hand and places it flat against his chest. Mickey could feel the quick pace of Ian's heart beat on the inside of his palm. He keeps his hand perfectly still, allowing the redhead to guide him on his journey. He already knows where this is going, but watches attentively as Ian guides his hand along his hot skin. He moves Mickey's hand across the taunt and rippled muscles of his stomach and stops between his legs. Ian takes the other hand and angles the waistband of his briefs down, springing his dick free from the uncomfortably tight fabric. 

Ian manipulates both their hands into a fist and curves them around his dick, his larger hand covering up Mickey's smaller one completely. He lets out a sigh and jerks his hips up, thrusting into the warmth of their interlaced fingers. They were both staring intently at Ian's dick and the action alone almost made Mickey reconsider having sex. 

“Ah..fuck..Mick,” Ian moaned against his mouth as they kissed roughly. He released his grip on Mickey's hand, a silent sign for him to take over. 

Mickey spit into his hand and returned it to its prior location. Ian's dick throbs inside his slick palm as he jerks him skillfully. Mickeys hand wrings out sexy moans from Ian's lips, that have him grasping at his own dick through his pants. He quickly finds the perfect rhythm and Ian's head lolls back in bliss. “Yes...fuck...like that.” Ian's voice is shaky, and Mickey can already tell he is close.

Ians bony fingers immediately go to work, unbuttoning and unzipping Mickey's jeans quickly. He spits into his palm and his eager hand shoves its way inside Mickey's boxers to grab onto his untouched and pulsating member. He quickly matches Mickeys pace and they move together, both desperate to reach the impending climax. 

Mickey was already on the edge. His hand goes faster, in an attempt to bring Ian to the finish line. Ian's hips thrust upwards meeting Mickey's hand thrust for thrust, “Ohhh..baby. Yes.” Ian praises against his neck. Mickey watches as Ians hips still and his whole body quakes, as an intense orgasm ripples through him. 

The sight was enough to send Mickey over the edge and he bites down on his lip hard, trying to hold on. His efforts were fruitless and his body willingly gave into Ian's relentless hand. Ian continued stroking him as waves of pleasure surged through him. He pulled every last moan and drop from him until Mickey was happily spent.

They slumped back into the seats, still gasping for air. Ian raised Mickey's tattooed fingers up to his mouth and kissed them lovingly. 

“Hand job at the train station Gallagher, really?” Mickey gave him a smile and they laughed together. 

“I knew you couldn't resist me.” Ian spoke lightheartedly, his eyes locking with Mickeys. 

“What the fuck are we going to do?” 

Mickey was brought back to their current dilemma. How could he expect Ian to stay with him, in this shit show he called his life. 

“Well, I don't know about you Mickey, but I'm fucking starving.” Ian said, while adjusting his clothes. He pulls on his shirt and jacket and looks at the unresponsive Mickey, “Hey, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I don't want to fight, please.”

To Mickey's surprise, Ian reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. He cups his hands around the cigarette and the flame from the lighter illuminates his face. He takes a long hit and then hands it off to Mickey. 

Mickey readjusts himself in the seat and stares blankly out the windshield, “I have to tell you the truth about this whole thing. I don't want you to freak out about it okay.”

“Truth about what? How you broke out of prison? Or how you got beat up?” 

“Both. I don't want you fucking running off, or saying something to anyone. Not even Trevor. Promise me, Ian.” He passed the smoke off to Ian and watched him closely.

“I promise Mick. I won't say anything.” 

“When we went to see Jesus, I know you heard him talking about the guard. Her name is Beth. She has been working in Chicago corrections for years, and she knew everyone that entered and exited that shithole from memory. After I...made her happy...she told me that me and deadbeat Terry weren't the only Milkovich's that had served time.”

Ian paled at the mention of Mickey's dad. He remembered the threats, more like promises, that Terry had screamed at them outside the Alibi the night Mickey came out. He knew the next time the father and son duo met up, someone wasn't coming out alive. 

“Was he in there with you, Mickey? Was he the one who hurt you?” Ian ask, jumping to conclusions. 

“No, just sit back and listen firecrotch. So Beth tells me that I look a lot like a prisoner who got released awhile back. I thought she was just fucking with me but she showed me his case file.This dudes fucking whore of a mother, put him up for adoption two days after he was born. Separating him from his identical twin. Her name was Markita Thompson, which later turned into Markita Milkovich, when she married Terry's abusive ass.”

“She was...is..your mom?” Ian ask, processing the information.

“Yeah, and he is my twin brother.”


	8. Keep your head up, my love

Mickey flicked the cigarette out the window and lit up another. There was a long silence between them as he fumbled over the words in his mind. He had never told anyone about his mother. No one really cared enough to ask, probably because they knew he would beat the shit out of them for it. This was the first time he had wanted to tell someone the sob story of his childhood. He felt comforted that it was Ian, and he could tell him anything. 

He started at the beginning, when Marika abandoned them when he was seven and Mandy was still in diapers. She had left them at the mercy of fuck head Terry, as Mickey calls him, to live a life full of chaos. Along with the constant physical abuse him and Mandy endured, Terry also fed them lies, trying his best to convince them that Markita had died in a car accident. His older brothers went along with the lie and Mandy never knew any different, but he was older and it didn't work. Mickey held onto the only memory of his mom he had; her thick accent screaming in his ears, telling him not to hit his sister, that she was the only one he had and he needed to protect her. 

“She is Ukrainian, I think. Terry’s always had a think for foreign women with accents.” 

Ian sat quietly, watching Mickey as he spoke, pressing a supportive hand against his knee while he talked. He wasn't used to seeing this vulnerable side of Mickey; his voice shaky and thick with emotion as he spoke about his life. 

“Terry really wanted a girl and when he found out she was having twin boys, he tried convincing her to get an abortion. They already had my three other brothers….too many mouths to fucking feed I guess. Anyways, I'm the little shit they decided to keep. She named him Matviyko, and he lives in Ohio.”

“I thought your name was weird,” Ian teases, trying to make him laugh, “Why didn't you tell me about this?” 

“I don't like talking about it, consider yourself fucking lucky," He lets out a puff of smoke and laughs, "When Matty got arrested and thrown in Chicago Corrections, they placed him in D block with Terry….the dumb fuck thought it was me and attacked Matty...he spent a week in the hospital. Fast forward months later, Matty gets released, I go in, and meet Beth. She helps me plan my escape.”

“So she is in love with you then? Do you love her too Mick?” 

“I did what I had to do...had nothing to fucking do with love man,” Mickey grabs his hand and folds their fingers together, “I did it for us,” He takes a deep breath and continues, “It was hard...being alone in Mexico. I did alright though, until Damon's brothers found me. Someone told them I ditched Damon and when I didn't bring him with me across the border they were pissed….took it out on my fucking face.” 

“They beat you up?” 

Car headlights illuminate Mickey’s face and Ian focuses on the lingering yellow bruises along his jaw. He feels the familiar sting of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He cups his hand around Mikey's neck, his fingers rub soothing circles against his warm skin. 

“They left me for dead on the side of the road. I called Mandy, and she came and got me.” 

“And then she came to me.” 

“I really didn't know she'd do that. I didn't want you mixed up in all this shit. You were not supposed to know.” 

“Mick...I’m always here, even if we're not together.” 

“You giving random dudes hand jobs now, Gallagher? Not sure what the boyfriend would think about that one.” He scoffs, raising his eyebrows. 

“Fuck off, he's not my boyfriend.” 

“Then what is he then?” Mickey ask, his tone calculating and curious. 

“He's a distraction.” Ian let's out a sigh and looks out the window, desperately trying to avoid the argument. He absentmindly runs his fingertips over Mickey's tattooed knuckles, tracing each individual letter. It was too easy for him to fall back into this pattern. 

“He's gonna switch places with me.” Mickey whispers, voice barely audible.

“What do you mean switch places. How can that possibly work? Why would he agree to that shit?” Ian questions, forehead scrunched in disbelief. 

“Cause Damon got another ten years added to his sentence. He got picked up and thrown back in jail for escape. They added on more time because he robbed the fucking seven-eleven. Also another reason his brothers want to kill me.”

“Okay, so your brother and Damon…”

“Yeah, they were fuckin’.”

“Mickey, there's no way that's gonna fucking work. If you get caught you'll be in jail for the rest of your life.”

“If I don't get Matty inside that fucking jail in my place, Damon's brothers will find me and finish the job. If I go back to jail, Damon is going to kill me. They made that very fucking clear. I'm fucked either way. Just let me worry about this shit Gallagher, I'll get you home soon. If this is the last time I'm gonna see you I don't wanna spend it talking.” 

Mickey turns the key and starts the Jeep. Ian was left with conflicting emotions. It seemed like outside forces were constantly pulling them apart. The thought of having to say goodbye to Mickey again, laid heavy on his heart. 

He wanted to confess something to Mickey as well, but cowardly sat in silence. He had missed his daily regimen of pills for almost a week now. On top of everything else Mickey was dealing with, he didn't want to add to it. He hadn't done anything crazy, even though Fiona would say otherwise. She's called him every day and he hasn't answered, cause what would he even say? He did feel differently though, more alive if that was possible, but Mickey always made him feel like that. 

They were almost to the hotel when Ian saw the red and blue swirling lights. His heart sank to his stomach when he saw three cop cars parked in front of the stairs to their room. 

“Motherfucker,” Mickey yells, slamming his fist repeatedly against the steering wheel, “Mandy’s in there.” 

Mickey speeds by the hotel, not letting up from the gas pedal till the lights were in the rearview mirror. He pulled into an empty parking lot and hit the brakes, breathing heavy in panic. He fists his hair in his hands and screams out, cursing his bad luck. He wants to selfishly keep driving. Drive until he runs out of gas, until he can find a safe place for him and Ian, but the thought of Mandy going to jail over him hurts too bad.

“I gotta go back.” Mickey whines, his voice wet with sadness. He can't stop the tears that run down his cheeks when he finally turns to meet Ian's eyes.

Ian grabs him and slams their lips together. His hands rub against Mickey's face lovingly, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. Mickey pulls back and rests his forehead against Ian's, refusing to let go. He wishes he could stay in this moment forever, suspended in time, where it was just him and Ian and nothing else. There were at least one hundred different things he wanted to say, but only one thing came out. 

“I love you, Ian Gallagher.” 

He presses their lips together once again and before Ian can respond, Mickey jumps out of the Jeep and takes off running back to the hotel. 

“I love you too, Mick.” Ian speaks out into the empty vehicle. He climbs into the driver seat and drives off into the night, back to Chicago. Back home.


	9. Feelin Electric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly a filler chapter, but I'm on vacation and will update more this week. Ian might seem out of character for the next few chapters, just a heads up. Although he's still mentioned, Mickey won't be in a few chapters so I'm switching back to Ian's POV.

He bought a pack of Marlboro Reds and chain smoked the entire ride home. The night's events replayed incessantly in his mind. Punching Mickey at the train station, kissing Mickey in a sea of people, and lastly, the blue and red lights from the police cars. 

He should have been crying, he really wanted to, but couldn't. Normal people cry whenever they're sad, but he isn't normal. Instead of being sad, he felt angry. Angry at himself for being a pussy and not telling Mickey he was off his meds. Mad that he let Mickey cross the border alone. This year he felt like he had been thriving, but it had all been an illusion. Now that he was off the medicine and his head was clear, it was apparent he had been looking at the world through unfocused eyes. He wasn't happy, could never be happy without him. His life was like an unfinished puzzle, with one piece missing and only Mickey Milkovich could put it back together again. 

His right leg bounced nervously against the floorboard as he drove through the South Side. He was home, it should have been a relief, but now he had to deal with his family. It was mainly Fiona he was worried about, she was always giving him shit. His other siblings would probably understand.

He flicked the cigarette out the window and forced his body out of the Jeep and into the house. He walked through the door and immediately saw Fiona sitting on the couch in front of the TV. She turned her head toward him and within seconds, she was off the couch and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I've been so worried,” Fiona said, her face pressed against his jacket.

“I'm okay, I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls.” 

Fiona released her grip on his waist and pulled back to look him over. He shifted uncomfortably, as her concerned eyes looked him up and down. He glanced around the room and through the kitchen, missing the faces of his other siblings. 

“They're all out. Liam, upstairs asleep.” She said, motioning for him to sit down on the couch next to her. She grabbed a cigarette from her pack and nestled it between her lips, “You're going to tell me what happened, right?” She flicked her pink lighter and lit the tip of the tobacco. 

He sank down onto the green couch, his knee knocking lightly against Fiona’s as he stretched out. He hesitated and wiped his palms over his legs. He knew Fiona didn't like Mickey and he was nervous of how she was going to react when he revealed their latest rendezvous. 

“I've been with Mandy,” He gulped and reached out to grab Fiona's cigarette, took a long draw and exhaled smoke through his nose, “Mickey was hurt and she needed my help.”

Fiona's eyebrows knitted together, “Mickey? You're kidding me, Ian. Do you want to end up in jail too? I thought you two were done and what about Trevor?” She held both her hands out, palms turned up, eyes boring holes into his green ones. 

“Trevor is a good guy, but he's not who I want. It's always been Mickey, for as long as I can remember Fi.” 

“You're lucky to have someone in your life like Trevor. I've known where you were this whole time.”

“Known what?” Ian ask, unsure if what he heard was right. He had trusted Trevor. Now he regretted telling that curly haired asshole anything. 

“That you were holed up in a hotel room with your ex boyfriend and his sister, off your meds, possibly manic.”

“Oh, that's just rich Fiona. Lay it on thick.” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He stood up from the couch, done with the conversation. The disloyalty from Trevor, the jab Fiona made about him being manic, only fuelled his anger further. He had to get away from her, before he said something he would regret. He jerked his phone out of his pocket and walked toward the stairs. He was going to end things with Trevor, like he should have done a long time ago. 

“You realize, whenever they find Mickey he's going away for a long time. You sure you want to spend the rest of your life waiting for him? We're talking half your lifetime Ian!” Fiona yelled.

Her words were like glass, ripping through his heart, “We're going to be together. He's going to get out and we will be together. TOGETHER!” Ian yelled, unable to hold back any longer. He was breathing heavily through his nose and his whole body was shaking. 

Fiona jumped, shocked from his unexpected outburst. It had been a long time since she saw him like this and it only made her worry more, “We should call doctor Kelly and set up an appointment. It might be helpful for you to talk to someone else about this.” 

“I'm sorry, it's been a shit day Fiona.” Ian said, breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. He felt bad for yelling at her, but shit, what did she expect would happen. 

“Yeah,”Her eyes darted away from him and she thumbed at her wet cheeks,“We can talk later today.” 

He climbed up the stairs and into his room. With Fiona living in the house again, he was forced back into his old room with Liam. He saw his little brothers sleeping figure on the lower bunk across from him. 

Everything was so dull and boring. His single bed was in the corner untouched, same old posters lined the walls, same orange pill bottles collecting dust on his bedside table. He stripped down to his boxers and lit a cigarette. The bedsprings groaned beneath him as he seated himself at the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his phone, winced at the bright light and text Trevor.

Ian: Coffee shop on Central 12pm

He threw his phone onto the table and dropped his finished cigarette into an old Gatorade bottle. He laid back in bed with his eyes staring up at the ceiling. The rising sun peaked through the holes on his window blinds, trying to force its way in. He slung his arm over his eyes and escaped into the numbness only sleep could bring. 

He woke up four hours later, completely rested. He sat up on his elbows and checked his phone. His eyes viewed the empty bunk bed, Liam was gone, off to another day at his fancy private school. He had a few hours before meeting Trevor and he removed himself from the warm bed and padded toward the bathroom. The house was eerily quiet. Long gone were the chaotic mornings he grew up with. He kinda missed it, but it was nice to piss in peace.

He took a shower and threw on fresh clothes. He walked downstairs, phone in hand, searching for the number to the county jail. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Mickey, but he could find out what days and times he was allowed to visit. He dialed the number and waited for answer. On the third ring a very irritated female voice answered, “Chicago Corrections, how may I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me if Mandy Milkovich was arrested, and what her charges are.”

“She's here. Possession of methamphetamine and harboring an escaped prisoner.” 

“And when can I visit?”

“You gotta be on the list, visitation is Sundays from 7am-10am. No cell phones, bring your ID.” Before Ian could respond, the line cracked and cut out. 

It was only Monday and he'd have to wait five days to see Mandy or Mickey. He was unsure if the jail would let him visit two inmates in the same day, probably not. He grabbed a poptart, shoved it into his mouth hungrily, and left for the L. Central was a ten minute trip on the train, and much too far to walk. He could have drove Mandy’s Jeep, but it just didn't feel right.


	10. Where's the meth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ian is out meeting Trevor, Frank returns home in search of Ian's bag of meth.

The Brew was unusually busy for this time of day.  By noon the place was usually empty and lifeless, but today it was bristling with patrons. He was half an hour early and Trevor was nowhere in sight. He shoved his hands inside his pockets and careened his neck toward the counter to see what the fuss was about. The barista was putting the finishing touches on a customer's latte; drizzling heavy cream into the shape of a heart. Fucking hipsters and their designer coffee. 

“Morning.” A voice mumbled behind him. Ian looked over his shoulder to see Trevor, standing in line right behind him. He was wearing the same annoyed expression as Ian, viewing the long line of people ahead of them. The corners of his mouth curled up when he met Ian's eyes, “You're early.” 

“So are you, you want to try somewhere else?” Ian ask, gesturing toward the line of people.

“I got time...best coffee in Chicago. Unless you wanna go back to my place, I can make a mean pot of coffee, Red.” He chuckled, lips parting to flash his porcelain veneers. 

Ten minutes later Ian called his order out to the barista. Large black coffee: no cream, no sugar, and absolutely no fancy fucking hearts.  He grabbed his coffee and ignored whatever Trevor was ordering. He purposely sat down at a table next to the door, so he could make a quick exit when things went south.

While he waited for Trevor he busied himself by looking at his phone. Chicago Corrections had their own Facebook page and posted mug shots of recently arrested inmates along with their charges. It only took a minute for the page to load and he saw Mickey's face at the top of the page. His picture made Ian laugh; his eyebrows were arched, full lips pressed together tightly, pale blue eyes staring savagly at the camera. It was hood Mickey; the Mickey he hadn't seen in years. Below the picture was a long list of charges associated with his arrest.

**Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovick**

**Escape x2**

**Intimidation**

**Resisting Law Enforcement**

**Assault with bodily fluid x2**

“Is this where you tell me you're still in love with your ex?” Trevor said, pulling Ian's attention away from his phone. He was so distracted that he didn't hear Trevor sit down.

Ian winced and tilted his head forward. Trevor practically took the words out of his mouth, “Yeah, something like that.” 

“I kinda figured that out...it's not the first time you've chosen him over me.” Trevor's voice was calm and an unmistakable flicker of hurt spread across his face. 

“I told you I wasn't into the whole ‘dating’ scene.” Ian reminded him, “Told you from the beginning, it wasn't going to be like that with us. I don't do the chocolate and flowers type shit, that's not me.”

“You mean you're not into dating or fucking guys that aren't Mickey,” Trevor got up from the chair and went to leave, but turned back to give Ian another biting remark, “Have fun waiting on your degenerate boyfriend,” He pointed at Ian's phone, “Looks like it might be a long time.”

Ian clenched his phone tightly inside his palm and considered chasing after Trevor. Not to make things right, but to beat the shit out of him. He had expected the argument, but the insults should have been directed toward himself and not toward Mickey. Trevor didn't even know him. 

Ian grabbed his coffee and exited the Brew. He lit up a smoke and walked to his next destination. He was going to beg for his job back; grovel at Sue's feet if he had to. Whatever it took.

* * *

 

He left the EMT station with his job still intact. Sue  lectured him on his attendance and put him on a two week probationary period. If he missed work while on probation, he would be fired. He was thankful that Sue was giving him another chance, but he could tell she was losing her patience with him.

He took the L back home. It was late afternoon and neither Fiona or Liam had returned yet. He walked into the kitchen and saw Frank rummaging around inside the fridge. “We're out of beer? Why are we out of beer?” He asked, facing Ian. He had a chicken leg in his right hand, chin glistening with grease.

“Alcohol messes with the meds. Fiona stopped drinking. You'd know this if you gave a shit.”

“Never thought I would see the day my children walked the straight and narrow.” He waved the chicken leg toward Ian and smirked, “Speaking of straight, I heard you had your first experience with a woman.”

“Fuck off, Frank.” Ian said, nose curling up from the haunting memory.

“Carl told me...or maybe it was Debbie...don't remember really. Anyways, have you decided what you're going to do with your inheritance yet?”

“My inheritance?”

“The meth, son.” Frank dropped the half eaten chicken leg back into the bucket and wiped his fingers on his shirt.

Ian's eyes widened, “Don't fucking worry about it.”

He assumed the only reason Frank was coming around the house again was because he was out of money. He either sold his portion of the meth, or snorted it up his nose.  Frank's sticky fingers must have searched the house and came up empty handed. Ian wasn't stupid enough to leave it here.

The whole family knew that Fiona had dumped her and Liam's half off somewhere. Maybe she flushed it down the toilet; no one knew for sure. Lip, Debbie, and Carl never came around anymore and Ian had no clue what they did with their part. He was too worried about the situation with Mickey to even care about it really.

“I could get rid of it for you, split the profits 80/20. Obviously I would get twenty percent, taking the risk and all.”

“Fuck off, Frank.” Ian flipped him off and walked the steps up to his room.

“If you need help, I'm here for you son!” Frank yelled behind him.

Frank's comment made him laugh. He slammed the door to his room and threw his backpack on the floor. The sheets on his bed were ripped off and his mattress was hanging off the box spring. His bedside table drawer was open, with its contents on full display. Mainly bottles of lube, condoms, and the old school Nokia flip phone Mickey gave him. As if on cue, the phone lit up and began vibrating noisly. There was only one person who knew the number to that phone. His shaky hands flipped it open and he held it up to his ear, “Mickey?”


	11. Sweet voices and bloody fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey uses a cell phone in jail to ask Ian for a favor that puts him in a rough situation.

Ian dropped down onto the mattress, holding his breath in anticipation, waiting to hear Mickey’s voice on the other end of the phone. 

“Yeah, its me bitch. Didn't think you were gonna answer.” Mickey's deep bravado resonated through the other end of the phone and Ian found his breath again. He was grinning from ear to ear, ass hanging off the bed; like a fourteen year old talking to a crush for the first time.

“Mick...what...are you okay? How are you calling me right now?” 

“I'm gettin’ by just fine...used to this shit, man. It's really nice to hear your voice.” 

The smile was evident in Mickey's voice and Ian pictured it clearly; pouty pink lips curling up at the corners, teeth gnawing away on his bottom lip. Mickey’s mouth has always been his favorite attribute. He's committed the softness, taste, and sound of it to memory. 

“Nice to hear your voice too. I'm coming to visit on Sunday so I can see you.”

“You don't have to..probably best if you don't. I haven't got much time Ian. I need a favor.” 

“Okay, what kind of favor?” 

“I need you to meet with someone tonight,” Mickey's voice lowered, “At the Fairytale.”

“You're joking.” Ian laughed loudly; Mickey hated the Fairytale, there's no way he'd let him step foot in there alone. 

“Not a joke, Gallagher. You down or what?” 

“I'll do it Mick. Who am I going to meet with exactly?”

“They're expecting me, so you're going to need to bring something with you...or they won't let you talk to him.”

“Like a present?”

“It's not a fuckin’ dinner party.” Mickey sighed, “Iggy’s still hustlin’, you can buy off him.”

It took Ian a second to realize what Mickey was getting at. It wasn't a present, but more a party favor that would gain him entry. He couldn't get over the fact that Mickey agreed to meet someone at the fucking Fairytale, of all places. 

“I got it covered.” 

“He’ll be rollin’ with some Mexican banger dudes...these guys don't fuck around...be careful.”

“Yeah, okay, I got it.” 

“And Ian,” Mickey waited several seconds before continuing, “ _Please be good_.”

Ian sat there with the phone pressed against his ear long after the line cut off, unable to accept that the conversation was over. The tears finally came, rolling down his cheeks in rapid succession. He held phone against his chest and sank down onto the stained carpet of his bedroom floor, sobbing loudly into the nook of his forearm. When he found the strength to pull himself off the floor he had a pounding headache and his eyes burned. He wasn't sure how long he laid there in a blubbering pile of tears and slobber, but he needed to be strong for Mickey, he had to. 

He remembered Mickey's request. _Be good_. Out of everything they'd talked about that was the thing that stood out the most. Maybe it was Mickey’s way of telling him to stay out of trouble, or maybe he'd been hinting at his mental illness. He was almost positive that if Mickey knew he was off his meds he wouldn't have trusted him to be good. The Fairytale didn't exactly bring up the best memories for the two of them. 

He mentally listed everything he needed to do before going to the Fairytale. He had to retrieve his hidden bag of meth. He had ten dollars to his name, and needed that for the cover charge to get in the club. He couldn't exactly buy drugs off Iggy without any money.  He only needed a little bit to take with him. The hard part would be getting it home without Frank noticing. 

He needed a haircut, his red hair was unusually long and he couldn't go to the club looking unkempt. He thumbed through the clothes inside his closet, mulling over what he was going to wear. He decided on a pair of shredded blue jeans, the ones Mickey loved to see him in. Probably because they were tight and hugged his ass like a second skin. He grabbed a maroon long sleeved dress shirt and laid the clothes out on his bed. He stood back and smiled, happy with his selection. 

He grabbed his backpack and barreled down the stairs, determined to knock the first thing off his list. Frank was nowhere in sight and he was glad that something was working in his favor. He grabbed Mandy's keys from the kitchen table and headed out the door. 

The further he drove into the Southside the worse it got. There was a whole block of empty houses, abandoned by their owners. Their windows were boarded up and the windows that weren't boarded were busted out all together. This part of town gave shelter to many of the homeless and it was known for being the grizzliest part of Chicago. Garbage littered the road and the pavement quickly changed from blacktop to gravel. 

Ian brought the Jeep to a stop at an abandoned group of apartment buildings. This had always been Mickey's spot. He came here to think and get shit faced drunk whenever his feelings were too much for him to handle. Ian flashed back to the time he confronted Mickey here; the day before he married Svetlana. He got his ass kicked that day. All because he wanted Mickey to admit he was gay and that he loved him. That seemed like such a long time ago. They came so far since then. 

He walked up the deteriorating concrete steps to the first floor of the building. His eyes narrowed at a pile of crumbled cement and cobblestone in the corner of the room. He walked over, dropped to his knees and began removing boulders and scooping away gravel with his fingers. He was halfway into the pile and had found nothing. He became angry and clawed frantically through rocks and rubble till his hands were bleeding. He let out a frustrated sigh when his right hand brushed against the plastic baggie. 

He pulled it out and smiled, relieved to finally have it in his hands again. He swiped away a layer of white dust and examined it inside both his palms. It felt a lot heavier than he remembered. It was Monica's dying wish for him to have this and he wondered if she could see him now, what would she think. 

He grabbed his pack of Marlboros and removed the cellophane wrapper. He scooped his hand into the bag and dumped a generous amount of crystal clear chunks into the makeshift baggie. He twisted the cellophane and ran his lighter across the edges, sealing the contents safely inside. He shoved it inside his pocket for safe keeping and replaced the heavier bag back into the pile of cobblestone. He pushed the gravel and boulders back on top of the bag only stopping when it was buried completely. He slapped his hands on his pants and stood up to examine his work. It looked just like it had before. He wiped away the layer the sweat off his forehead and walked back down to the Jeep. The whole process had taken him well over an hour. The deep orange sun shined brightly through the rearview mirror, giving off its last rays of light before nightfall. His bloody fingers wrap tightly around the steering wheel and he speeds off toward the North side of town, still in need of that hair cut. 


	12. Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian goes to BoysTown and tries to impress a new aquantiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Drug use
> 
> I'm taking a little break from this story. I'm having major difficulties writing the ending to this and the words are not flowing like I want.

After midnight, deep in the heart of Boys Town, Ian paced outside the Fairytale. He had gone through hell to get here and feared that once again, he somehow fucked everything up. It was getting late and the watch on his left wrist only voiced this, ticking noisily with each passing second. The universe and a crappy knock off watch was telling him time was running out.

He meant to show up earlier; he really fucking tried to get here earlier. In the past two days he's slept a total of five hours and an hour of that was regretfully spent sleeping while on the train to the Fairytale. His saving grace had been a rude homeless man that forcefully shook him awake for sleeping in his spot. Even now, with his anxiety about meeting ‘mystery man’ in the club, he felt exhausted. The only thing that was currently keeping him awake was the frigid temperature outside and the cigarette between his chapped lips.

He took one final hit off the Marlboro before flicking it out onto the snow covered street. He shoved his cold hands inside his pockets and tried to shake off the uneasy feeling inside his stomach as he entered the club. He was immediately welcomed with a warm gust of heat and his extremities tingled from the quick change in temperature.

The Fairytale looked exactly the way he remembered it. Sexually charged music blasted overhead, neon lights swirled through a sea of overzealous men. They were all gazing wantonly toward the male dancers, shaking their asses on top of illuminated platforms. There was a mecca of beautiful men in all shapes in sizes, twisting their taunt and lustrous muscles, wearing golden booty shorts that accentuated their bulges and asses respectively. It didn't take much looking, before Ian became wrapped in the atmosphere just like the rest of the men on the floor.

~~Be good.~~

Mickeys voice rang inside his head, like his very own built in conscience. He practically ran to the bar, in desperate need of a distraction. He felt Curtis stirring inside him; his alter ego begged to break free and dismantle what little control he had left. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

He stepped up to the bar and saw a familiar face. The bartender's name was Derek, he had been training Ian to work the bar right before he quit the Fairytale. Derek was good looking, with medium length brown hair and tired blue eyes. He was one of those pretentious preppy boys that thought the sun rose from his ass and drove a souped up Chevy truck that he never shut up about. They started out as fuck buddies in the beginning, but Ian dropped him like a bad habit when Mickey came back. Derek was everything that Ian hated and the only reason he had tolerated the man was for the sake of his job and because he was a really good fuck.  Before he could turn away, Derek was standing in front of him with a oversized smile, “What're you having?”

“Beer.” Ian slapped a five dollar bill on top of the bar and an ice cold Bud Light was placed in front of him. He took a big swig and Derek hesitated before handing his change back.

“You look familiar.” Derek said, holding the money  just out of Ian’s reach.

Ian could almost see the gears turning inside the man's brain. It had been three years since Ian worked there and he looked significantly different now. It was amusing to watch Derek rack his brain and Ian laughed hard, nearly spitting beer across the bar, “I get that alot.”  

Derek slid the money toward Ian and his eyes widened as an imaginary light bulb lit up inside his mind, “You used to work here...Curtis?”

Ian pointed a finger gun toward Derek, “Ding Ding.” He rolled his eyes and tipped the beer up to his lips, glancing everywhere but at the man standing in front of him. He wasn't up for reminiscing about old times and lacked the patience to hold back his sarcastic rhetoric. He thought maybe tonight was the night Derek would get to experience an ole fashioned Southside beatdown.

“I knew I remembered your face,” Derek snapped his fingers together still in thought, “You had that tough boyfriend, who would yell at customers for looking at you.”

“You got me.” Ian said, raising his eyebrows sarcastically. He silently wished that someone would order a fucking drink and get this dumbass away from him.

“Where is grumpy cat anyways?” Derek asked, looking behind Ian, as if Mickey was going jump out at any time.

“He's on vacation.” Ian said, clenching his jaw. He swore on everything if Derek asked one more fucking question, he was going to jump across the bar.

“You look different,” He pointed at Ian's oversized coat, “Maybe cause you got on so many layers,” He cocked his head to the side and smirked, “I get off around two,” He leaned forward and winked, “If you wanna get off.”

“No thank you.” Ian wrapped his fingers around the cold bottle and promptly turned away to leave.

“Wait, there was a guy in here looking for you….he looked….familiar. He rented out the purple room for the whole night,” Derek pointed toward the back of the bar where the private rooms were located, “There were other men with him...you sure your man's on vacay Curtis?”

Ian chugged what was left of his beer and set it down on the bar, “Yeah, thanks.” Ian ran his palm over the front of his jeans, making sure the small twisted wrapper of meth was still safe inside his pocket. He let out a shaky breath and made his way through the crowd, toward the back of the club.

There was a bulky man with cinnamon colored skin guarding the door to the purple room. He had his arms folded across his chest, sporting a ‘Don't fuck with me’ glare. His biceps were the size of watermelons and the sleeves of his v neck tee shirt threatened to burst under such duress.

Ian walked up to him and scratched his neck nervously, “Hey, I’m...uh...well…”

“You're Ian Gallagher?” The man asked, his voice deep and abrasive. He watched Ian shake his head and he unfolded his arms, “You're late.” He knocked three times on the door and violently grabbed Ian by the collar of his shirt and threw him inside the dark room and closed the door behind him.

Before Ian could regain his balance, two guys grabbed him and shoved his back up against the closed door. “What the fuck!” he yelled as he fought against them. They turned him around and when he felt the cold metal barrel of a gun press against the back of his head, Ian immediately froze in place.

“Search him.” A voice ordered and the two men readily complied, jerking Ian's coat off.

One man spread his arms and legs while the other held the gun firmly against the base of Ian's head. Ian was pissed off, scared shitless, and his heart hammered inside his chest. A pair of hands smoothed down both his side's slowly, exploring the plains of his back. The hands continued downward and stopped to grab a handful of his ass, before moving down both his legs.

“That's enough.” The voice barked out and both men released Ian.

Ian jerked around angrily, and straightened his shirt. Somewhere amidst the tousle, two buttons on his shirt had snapped off and a large portion of his chest was now on display. He untucked the maroon shirt from his pants and picked up his discarded coat from the floor.

~~Be good~~

His eyes were finally able to focus on the room and the man who had been giving the orders. He stood awestruck at the scene in front of him. There was a small stage in the center of the room with two scantily clad dancers bathed in deep purple light. Their bodies grinded together slowly to the tune of Katy Perry's, I Kissed A Girl. Two plush leather couches sat perpendicular to the stage, separated by a large glass table.

Ian squinted toward the group of guys lounging on the black couches and Ian's heart fluttered when he recognized one of the men. He was fucking beautiful and it almost hurt to look at him. It was Matviyko and his resemblance to Mickey was unbelievable.

There were a few obvious differences between the two brothers. Matviyko’s hair was light blond; faded on the sides with long tufts of hair haphazardly sticking up in front. He had the same pale blue eyes as Mickey, but they were hidden behind thick rimmed rectangular glasses. He was a bit smaller than Mickey in both size and shape, wearing a light grey suit and black tie. When he flashed Ian a smile, his knees almost buckled. He had a glorious mouth just like Mickey, with full pink lips and an intoxicating smile. Ian's feet were cemented in place and he was unable to look away or move a muscle.

“Ian, c’mere...have a seat.” Matviyko said, patting the leather cushion next to him.

Ian walked toward the leather couch and Matviyko stood up to shake his hand, “I'm Matviyko,” he said as his cold hand wrapped in Ian's and he shook it firmly. “This is my crew...sorry if they roughed you up...they get carried away sometimes. You can just call me Matty.” He said, releasing Ian’s hand and sinking back down on the couch.

The tension in the room faded and he sat down next to Matty. Their legs were separated only by a few inches and Ian could feel the warmth radiating off his body. He watched as Matty absentmindedly chewed on his thumb nail and looked up at the men dancing in front of them. Ian was too busy staring at Matty to notice anyone else in the room.

“You got something for me?” Matty said, while spitting out a chunk of his fingernail.

Ian lifted his hips and scrambled to retrieve the drugs inside his pocket. Both of Matty’s men reached for their for their guns instinctively and Ian held his hands up in defense. Matty gave both men an annoyed look and dismissed them with a flick of his wrist, “Chill the fuck out! Dudes not gonna do anything...look at him.” The two men erupted in a fit of laughter and began talking to Matty in Spanish. Ian didn't have a fucking clue what they were saying. He shook his head and grabbed the cellophane wrapper from his pocket and handed it over to Matty. He watched as Matty untwisted the wrapper and dumped it's contents onto the glass tabletop in front of them.

“Where did you get this?” Matty asked, running his finger over the shards of crystal.

“I got a guy.”

Matty laughed, “A clean cut guy like you has a meth hook up? You don't look like a junkie to me.”  His glasses slid down his nose as he inspected the chunks further.

“Neither do you.” Ian replied before thinking.

Matty turned his attention away from the meth and narrowed his eyes at Ian. Apparently he had struck a nerve. Matty sat back against the couch and the guy who Matty called James, began breaking up the chunks of meth with a razor. He separated the substance into four thick white lines before sitting back down in his seat.

Matty motioned toward Ian, “Tough guy gets first bump, this is your shit anyways.” He gave Ian a playful smile and pushed his black glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“No...that's okay,” Ian shook his head, “It's yours.” A nervous laugh escaped his lips and he internally winced.

Mattys eyebrows shot up angrily, “You a fuckin’ cop or something?”

“Fuck no.”

“Ok, then take the first bump pussy.” Matty said before throwing a small blue cut up straw on the glass table.

~~_Be good_ ~~

Ian could see Mattys anger escalating by the second and his hand twitched against Ian's leg. All three men were staring expectantly toward Ian. He had to prove something to these men. Surely Mickey would have understood the situation he was in. This was his make or break it moment and he submitted to the peer pressure. He let out a sigh, grabbed the straw and lowered his face to the table. He snorted the first line quickly, only stopping when when it was completely finished. He immediately stood up and held his head back, “Fuck.” Ian breathed out, clenching his eyes tightly, and pinching the bridge of his nose as the burning sensation spread through his sinuses. He could taste the godawful shit in the back of his throat and his stomach lurched in response. Once the pain  stopped, he opened his eyes to see all three men looking at him with wide smiles.

“That's what I'm fucking talking about!” Matty declared, before clapping his hands together and snorting up the second line in record time.  

Ian sat back down beside Matty and the blond patted the back of his neck proudly. He flashed that familiar Milkovich smile and Ian leaned back into his touch. The tired feeling he had carried with him was long gone and a wave of euphoria washed over him. He felt fucking great and the drugs had significantly changed his mood.

“Party with me tonight and we will take care of business tomorrow. These dudes are fucking boring.” Matty said, looking up at the half dressed men dancing, “Mickey said you used to work here,” He moved closer, his voice rich and throaty against Ian's ear, “Show me your moves Gallagher.”

“Okay, but I have a few questions first.”

“Mickey didn't tell you what was going on? I guess since he's in lock up he couldn't really give much away. Don't worry...we got it all figured out. By the end of the week you'll have your boyfriend back and I'll be in the hole with mine.”

Matty lit up a cigarette and yelled at his men to leave in Spanish. James and the other guy exited the purple room seconds later, leaving Ian and Matty alone. The two men were still dancing on stage and Matty tilted his head, “Show em’ how it's done.”

Ian gave Matty a shy smile and stood up. One of his favorite songs was playing overhead and he was swiftly pulled into the night's activities. He jumped up on the stage next to the dancers and began rolling his hips to the beat.

_I feel so close to you right now_  
_It's a force feel_  


Ian was quickly losing his inhibitions. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt before pulling his arms out. He ran his hands along his chest and down his stomach while popping his hips. The other men joined him; trailing their hands over Ian's broad shoulders and back. Ian could feel Mattys heated gaze on his body while he danced. Matty wanted him to put on a show and Ian was doing exactly that. He locked eyes with Matty briefly before rutting his hips against the barely dressed dancer. He let his head fall back and lost himself in the music and sensations coursing through his veins.

  
_And there's no stopping us right now  
I feel so close to you right now _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end is 'Feel so close' by Calvin Harris. Mickey is coming back next chapter and I'll be finishing this story up in a few chapters. Hope you enjoyed it and as always, feedback is welcomed.


End file.
